Benjamin Waterhouse
A Journal of a Young Man of Massachusetts, 2nd ed.
The sailors often tried to spirit up the soldiers, and to encourage them to cleanliness; but it was in vain, as most of them were depressed below the elasticity of their brave souls; yet amidst their distress, not a man of them would listen to proposals to enter the British service. Every one preferred death, and even wished for it. The Americans are a clean people in their persons, as well as in their houses. None of them are so poor as to live in cabins, like the Irish; or in cottages, like the Scotch; but they are brought up in houses having chimnies, glass windows, separate and convenient rooms, and good bedding; and to all these comfortable things we must add that the poorest of our countrymen eat meat once every day, and most of them twice. To young men so brought up and nourished, a British captivity on board their horrid transports, and even on board their prison-ships, is worse than death. If we, Americans, treat British prisoners as they treat ours, let it be sounded through the world to our disgrace. Should the war continue many years, I predict that few Americans will be taken alive by the English.
After these poor fellows had received money and clothing from our government, they became cheerful, clean, and many of them neat, and were no bad specimens of American soldiery. We are sorry to again remark, that there was observed something repulsive between the soldier and the sailor. The soldier thought himself better than the Jack tar, while the sailor, felt himself, on board ship, a better fellow than the soldier; one was a fish in the water; the other a lobster out of the water. The sailors always took the lead, because they were at home; while the dispirited landsman felt himself a stranger in an enemy's land, even among his countrymen. It would be well if all our sea and land commanders would exert themselves to break down the partition wall that is growing up between our sailors and soldiers; they should be constantly reminded that they are all children of one and the same great family, whereof the President of the United States is Father; that they have all been taught to read the same bible, and to obey the same great moral law of loving one another. I observed, with pain, that nothing vexed a sailor more, than to be called by a brother tar, a soldier-looking son of a –. This term of contempt commonly led to blows. This mutual dislike bred difficulties in the government of ourselves, and sometimes defeated our best regulations; for it split us into parties; and then we behaved as bad as our superiors and richer brethren do on shore, neglecting the general interest to indulge our own private views, and spirit of revenge. I thought our ship often resembled our republic in miniature; for human nature is the same always, and only varies its aspect from situation and circumstances.
It is now the latter end of September; the weather pretty pleasant, but not equal to our fine Septembers and Octobers in New-England. We are, every hour, expecting orders to quit this river, to return to our own dear country.
CHAPTER III
October 2d, 1814.—We were now ordered to pick up our duds and get all ready to embark in certain gun-brigs that had anchored along side of us; and an hundred of us were soon put on board, and the tide favouring, we gently drifted down the river Medway. It rained, and not being permitted to go below, and being thinly clad, we were wet to the skin. When the rain ceased, our commander went below, and returned, in a short time, gaily equipped in his full uniform, cockade and dirk. He mounted the poop, where he strutted about, sometimes viewing himself, and now and then eyeing us, as if to see if we, too, admired him. He was about five feet high, with broad shoulders, and portly belly. We concluded that he would afford us some fun; but we were mistaken; for, with the body of Dr. Slop, he bore a round, ruddy, open and smiling countenance, expressive of good nature and urbanity. The crew said, that although he was no seaman, he was a man, and a better fellow never eat the king's bread; that they were happy under his command; and the only dread they had was, that he, or they should be transferred to another ship. Does not this prove that seamen can be better governed by kindness and good humor than by the boatswain's cat? We would ask two of our own naval commanders, B. and C. whether they had not better try the experiment? We should be very sorry if the infant navy of our young country, should have the character of too much severity of discipline. To say that it is requisite is a libel on our national character. Slavish minds alone require the lash.
On board this brig were two London mechanics, recently pressed in the streets of the capital of the English nation—a nation that has long boasted of its liberty and humanity. These cocknies wore long coats, drab-coloured velvet breeches, and grey stockings. They were constantly followed by the boatswain's mate; who often impressed his lessons, and excited their activity with a rope's end which he carried in his hat. The poor fellows were extremely anxious to avoid such repeated hard arguments; and they kept at as great a distance from their tyrant as possible, who seemed to delight in beating them. It appeared to me to be far out-doing in cruelty, the Algerines. They looked melancholy, and at times, very sad. May America never become the greatest of naval powers, if to attain it, she must allow a brutal sailor to treat a citizen, kidnapped from his family in the streets of our cities, worse than we use a dog. I again repeat it, for the thousandth time, the English are a hard hearted, cruel and barbarous race; and, on this account alone, I have often been ashamed, that we, Americans, descended mostly from them. When a man is ill used, it invites others to insult him. One of our prisoners, who had been treated with a drink of grog, took out his knife, and, as the cockney's face was turned the other way, cut off one skirt of his long coat. This excited peals of laughter. When the poor Londoner saw that this was done by a roguish American, at the instigation of his own countrymen, the tear stood in his eye. Even our jolly, big bellied captain, enjoyed the joke, and ordered the boatswain's mate to cut off the other skirt, who, after viewing him amidst shouts of laughter, damned him for a land lubber, and said, now he had lost his ring-tail, he looked like a gentleman sailor.
Although our good natured captain laughed at this joke, I confess I could not; all the horrors of impressment rushed on my mind. This mechanic may have left a wife and children, suffering and starving, from having her husband and their father kidnapped, like a negro on the coast of Guinea, and held in worse than negro slavery. But this is Old England, the residence of liberty and equal laws; and the bulwark of our holy religion! The crimes of nations are punished in this world; and we may venture to predict, that the impressment of seamen, and cruel military punishments, will operate the downfal of this splendid imposter, whose proper emblem is a bloated figure, seated on a throne, made of dead mens' bones, with a crown on its head, a sword in one hand, and a cup filled with the tears of widows and orphans in the other.
Mr. Peel, a member of the British parliament, delivered an unfeeling speech relative to Ireland, in which he speaks of their untameable ferocity, and systematic guilt, supported by perjury, related this most affecting anecdote, which was to shew the feeling of abhorrence entertained against those who gave evidence against those who were tried for resisting a government they detested.—A man who was condemned to death was offered a pardon, on the condition that he would give evidence, which they knew he could give, after having actually given a part of his testimony, retracted it in open court; his wife, who was strongly attached to her husband, having prayed him on her knees, with tears, that he would be hanged rather than give evidence. The house burst out into a loud and general LAUGH!!!
Here was an heroic woman who leaves the wife of Brutus and of Pœlus far behind her. If this extraordinary and shockingly affecting scene had taken place in the Congress of the United States of America, would it have excited laughter, or deep commisseration? Greater men than members of parliament, can laugh at misery. See what Junius says of king George the 3d and Chancellor York.
There is another Irish anecdote worth relating.—During the troubles in Ireland a Boy 16 years old was seized by the military, who demanded of him to whom he belonged. He refused to tell. They tied him up to the halberts, and he endured a severe whipping without confessing whom he served. At length his sister, who was about 18, unable to endure the sight of his torture any longer, run to the officer and told him that he was in the service of Mr. – a suspected man. The brave boy damned his sister for a blabbing b— for now said he the cause of Ireland is betrayed and ruined. Here are traits of Spartan virtues, that a modern British house of commons are past comprehending. A stronger proof of debasement cannot well be imagined in the Senate of England.
We passed by Sheerness, and, in our passage to the Nore, came near several hulks filled with convicts. We soon came along side the Leyden, an old Dutch 64, fitted up with births, eight feet by six, so as to contain six persons; but they were nearly all filled by prisoners who came before us, so that we were obliged to shirk wherever we could.
We found the captain of the Leyden very much such a man as the commander of the Malabar. Our allowance of food was as short as he could make it, and our liquor ungenerous. He said we were a damn set of rebel yankees that lived too well, which made us saucy. The first lieutenant was a kind and humane gentleman, but his captain was the reverse. He would hear no complaints, and threatened to put the bearer of them in irons.
The countenance, and whole form of this man was indicative of malice; his very step was that of an abrupt and angry tyrant. His gloomy visage was that of an hardened jailor; and he bore towards us the same sort of affection which we experienced from the refugees in Nova Scotia.—He caused a marine to be most severely flogged for selling one of the prisoners a little tobacco, which he saved out of his own allowance. The crew were forbidden to speak with any of us; but, when they could with safety, they described him to be the most odious of tyrants, and the most malicious of men. They said he never appeared pleased only when his men were suffering the agonies of the boatswain's lashes. In this he resembled the demons among the damned.
Upon calling over our names, and parading ourselves before captain Davie, we could discover, in a second, the harsh temper of the man. We at length weighed anchor, passed a fleet of men of war, and in a few days arrived in Plymouth harbor. The captain went immediately on shore and left the command to his worthy and humane lieutenant. The next day a great many boats came off to us filled with Cyprian dames. They were, generally, healthy, rosy looking lasses. Their number increased every hour, until there were as many on board of us as there were men. In short, every man who paid the waterman half a crown had a wife; so that the ship, belonging to the bulwark of our religion, exhibited such a scene as is described by the navigators, who have visited the South-Sea Islands. We read, with surprise and pity, the conduct of the female sex, when European ships visit the islands in the Pacific ocean;15 and we are unwilling to give credit to all we read, because we, Americans, never fail to annex the idea of modesty to that of a woman; for female licentiousness is very rarely witnessed in the new world. This has rendered the accounts of navigators, in a degree, incredible; but we see the same thing in the ports of England—a land of Christians—renowned for its bishops and their church, and for moral writings and sermons, and for their bible societies, and religious institutions, and for their numerous moral essays, and chaste poetical writings. Yes, Christian reader! in this religious island, whereof George the 3d is king, and Charlotte the queen, the young females crowd the prison ships, and take for husbands the ragged American prisoners, provided they can get a few shillings by it! What are we to think of the state of society in England, when two or three sisters leave the house of their parents, and pass a week on board of a newly arrived ship? What can be the sentiments of the daughters? What the feelings of their mothers, their fathers, and their brothers? In the South Sea Islands, young females know not what modesty means; neither that nor chastity is a virtue in those regions.16 But it is not quite so in England; there this lewd conduct is a mark of debasement, depravity and vice. The sea-ports of England, and the streets of her capital, and, indeed, of all her large cities are filled with handsome women, who offer themselves as wives to men they never saw before, for a few shillings; and yet this is the country of which our reverend doctors, from the pulpit, assure us, contains more religion and morality than any other of the same number of inhabitants; nay, more, our governor has proclaimed it to the world over, as being the very "bulwark of the religion we profess." If cruelty to prisoners, cruelty to their own soldiers, if kidnapping their mechanics, by press gangs, if shocking barbarity be exercised towards prisoners, and if open, shameless lewdness, mark and disgrace their sea-ports, their capital, and all their large cities, are the modest and correct people, inhabiting the towns and villages of the United States, to be affronted by being told publicly, that they have less religion, less morality than the people of England? How long shall we continue to be abused by folly and presumption? We, Americans, are yet a modest, clean, and moral people; as much so as the Swiss in Europe; and we feel ourselves offended, and disgusted when our blind guides tell us to follow the example of the English in their manners, and sexual conduct. Could I allow myself to particularise the conduct of the fair sex, who crowd on board every recently arrived ship, and who swarm on the shores, my readers would confess that few scenes of the kind could exceed it. The freedom of the American press will give to posterity a just picture of British morals, in the reigns of George the 3d and 4th.
While laying in Plymouth harbor, we received the news of the capture of the City of Washington; and the burning of its public buildings with the library. The burning of the public buildings and the library of books at Washington has been execrated by all the civilized world. The British are famous, or rather infamous for this barbarous mode of warfare. We find this passage in Captain John Knox's historical Journal of the Campaigns in North America in 1758—"Brigadier Wolfe has been also successful at Gaspe, and the N. N. E. parts of this province, (Nova Scotia) he has burned, among other settlements a most valuable one called Mount St. Louis: the intendant of the place offered 150,000 livres to ransom that town and its environs, which were nobly rejected: all their magazines of corn, dried fish, barrelled eels, and other provisions which they had for themselves, and other provisions for Quebec market, were all destroyed. Wherever he went with his troops desolation followed."—And this, reader, was the glorious General Wolfe, whom his barbarous nation, and our own fools have extolled to the skies in marble monuments, and his sons. Cockburn was nothing compared with this immortal plunderer and burner of villages and destroyer of the provisions laid up for the men, women and children of the French settlements in Arcadia. General Wolfe perpetrated this savage deed in the latter end of November, 1758, when the wretched inhabitants had a long and dreary winter before them. But Wolfe and Ross were punished, by the just avenger.
"Capt. M'Curdie was killed by the falling of a tree on the 30th, and Lieut. Hazen commands at present, who returned last night from a scout up this river: he went to St. Ann's and burnt 147 dwelling houses, 2 mass-houses, besides all their barns, stables, out-houses, granaries, &c. He returned down the river about – where he found a house in a thick forest, with a number of cattle, horses and hogs; these he destroyed. There was fire in the chimney; the people were gone off into the woods; he pursued, killed and scalped six men, brought in four, with two women and three children; he returned to the house, set it on fire, threw the cattle into the flames, and arrived safe with his prisoners."—from page 230 of Captain Knox's Historical Journal of Campaigns in North America from 1756 to 1760. This work in two 4to. vol. is dedicated by permission to Lieutenant General Sir Jeffrey Amherst, and printed in London by Dodsley, 1769. It has for its motto ne quid falsi, dicere audeat, ne quid veri non audeat.
Every body around us believed that America was conquered, and the war over. After we had read the account in the newspaper, the Lieutenant came down among us, and talked with us on the event; and asked us if we did not think that America would now submit and make peace on such terms as Great Britain should propose? We all told him with one voice, no! no! and that the possession of the whole sea-coast could not produce that effect. We explained to him the situation of Washington; and described the half built city; and soon convinced him that the capture of Washington, was by no means an event of half the importance of the capture of Albany, or New-York, or Baltimore. We all agreed that it would make a great sound in England, and throughout Europe, but that it was, in fact, of little consequence to the United States. Why should a republican weep at the burning of a palace?
About a week after we entered Plymouth harbor, two hundred of us were drafted to be sent to Dartmoor Prison, instead of being sent, as we expected, to America.
We were conveyed in boats, and saw, as we passed, a number of men of war on the stocks; and, among others, the Lord Vincent, pierced for 120 guns. One of our prisoners told the lieutenant that he was in that battle with Lord St. Vincent, and of course helped him gain the victory, and here he was now sailing by a most noble ship, (built in honour of that famous admiral) on his way to a doleful prison! This man had been pressed on board a British man of war, and was given up as such; but instead of being sent home as he ought, he was detained a prisoner of war, and yet this unfortunate man exposed his life in fighting for the British off Cape St. Vincents, as much as the noble Lord himself. Such is the difference of rewards in this chequered world!
My mind was too much oppressed with the melancholy prospect of Dartmoor prison, to notice particularly the gallant show of ships; and the beautiful scenery which the dock and bay of Plymouth afforded. When we landed a short distance from the dock, we were received by a file of soldiers, or rather two files, between which we marched on to prison. This was the first time we touched the soil of England with our feet, after laying under its shores nearly a year. It excited singular and pleasant sensations to be once more permitted to walk on the earth, although surrounded by soldiers and going to prison. The old women collected about us with their cakes and ale, and as we all had a little money we soon emptied their jugs and baskets; and their cheering beverage soon changed our sad countenances; and as we marched on we cheered each other. Our march drew to the doors and windows the enchanting sight of fair ladies; compared with our dirty selves, they looked like angels peeping out of Heaven; and yet they were neither handsomer, or neater than our sweethearts and sisters in our own dear country.
After we left the street, we found the road extremely dusty, which rendered it very unpleasant in walking close to each other. Before we got half way to the prison, there was a very heavy shower of rain, so that by the time we arrived there we looked as if we had been wallowing in the mud. Our unfeeling conductors marched us nine miles before they allowed us to rest; never once considering how unfit we were, from our long confinement, for travelling. Where we were allowed to stop, a butt of beer was placed in a cart for sale. Had British prisoners been marching through New-England, a butt of beer, or good cider would have been placed for them free of all expense; but Old England is not New-England by a great deal, whatever Governor Strong may think of his adorable country of kings, bishops and missionary societies.17 Here a fresh escort of soldiers relieved those who brought us from Plymouth. The commanding officer of this detachment undertook to drive us from the beer-cart before all of us had a taste of it; he rode in among us, and flourished his sword, with a view to frighten us; but we refused to stir till we were ready, and some of our company called him a damned lobster backed –, for wishing to drive us away before every one had his drink. The man was perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last the booby did what he ought to have done at first—forced the beer-seller to drive off his cart. But it is the fate of British officers of higher rank than this one, to think and act at last of that which they ought to have thought, and acted upon at first. They are no match for the yankees, in contrivance, or in execution. This beer barrel is an epitome of all their conduct in their war with America. What old woman put the idea into this officer's head I know not; but it is a fact, as soon as the beer barrel was driven off, we were all ready to march off too! And few companies of vagabonds in England ever marched off to prison in better spirits; we cheered one another, and laughed at our profound leader, until we came in sight of the black, bleak, and barren moor, without a solitary bush or blade of grass. Some of our prisoners swore that we had marched the whole length of England, and got into Scotland. We all agreed that it was not credible that such a hideous, barren spot could be any where found in England.
Our old men-of-wars-men suffered the most. Many of these had not set their feet on the earth for seven years, and they had lost in a measure, the natural operation of their feet and legs. These naval veterans loitered behind, attended by a guard. In ascending a hill we were some distance from the main body, and by turning a corner the rear was concealed from the van. Two young men took advantage of this, and jumped over a wall, and lay snug under it; but being observed, the guard fired, which alarmed those in front, when some soldiers pursued them, and seeing the impossibility of escaping, the young men jumped over the wall again, and mixed in with their companions without their being able to identify their persons. Our driver was extremely perplexed and alarmed at our daring attempts.
On crawling up the long and ragged hill, we became wearied, and refused to walk so fast as did the guard. No prudent officer would have driven men on as we were driven. We should have rested every two or three miles.—The sun was sinking below the horizon when we gained the top of the hill which commanded a view of Dartmoor prison. We passed through a small collection of houses called Princetown, where were two inns. The weather was disagreeable after the shower, and we saw the dark-hued prisons, whose sombre and doleful aspect chilled our blood. Yonder, cried one of our companions, is the residence of four thousand five hundred men, and in a few minutes we shall add to the number of its wretches. Others said, in that place will be sacrificed the aspiring feelings of youth, and the anxious expectations of relatives. There, said I, shall we bury all the designs of early emulation. I never felt disheartened before. I shed tears when I thought of home, and of my wretched situation, and I cursed the barbarity of a people among whom we were driven more like hogs than fellow men and Christians. I had weathered adverse gales with fortitude; and never flinched amidst severities. "A taught bowstring," was always my motto; but here I gave way for a moment, to despair, and wished the string to snap asunder and end my misery; for I had not even the consolation of a criminal going to execution to brace up the cord of life and inspire hope beyond the grave. The idea of lingering out a wretched existence in a doleful prison, dying by piece-meals, my flesh wasting by hunger, my frame exhausting by thirst, and my spirits broken down by a tyrant, and by jostling with misfortunes, I could not avoid. If death, instead of knocking at my prison door, would enter it at once, I would thank the goal deliverer. I am now comforted with the conviction, that nothing but an early religious education could have preserved me at this, and some other times of my misery, from destroying myself.
We soon arrived at the gates of this very extensive prison, and were admitted into the first yard, for it had several. We there answered to the call of our names; and at length passed through the iron gates to prison No. 7. We requested the turnkey to take in our baggage, as it contained our bedding; but it was neglected, and rained on during the night; for on this bleak and drizzly mountain there are not more than ninety fair days in the year. It took us several days to dry our duds, for they merited not the name of baggage.
The moment we entered the dark prison, we found ourselves jammed in with a multitude; one calling us to come this way, another that; some halloing, swearing and cursing, so that I did not know, for a moment, but what I had died through fatigue and hard usage, and was actually in the regions of the damned. Oh, what a horrid night I here passed!
The floors of this reproach to Old England were of stone, damp and mouldy, and smelling like a transport. Here we had to lay down and sleep after a most weary march of 15 miles. What apology can be made for not having things prepared for our comfort? Those who have been enslaved in Algiers found things very different. The food and the lodging were in every respect superior among the Mahometans, than among these boasting Christians, and their general treatment infinitely more humane; some of our companions had been prisoners among the Barbary powers, and they describe them as vastly more considerate than the English.
After passing a dreadful night, we next day had opportunity of examining our prison. It had iron stanchions, like those in stables for horses, on which hammocks were hung. The windows had iron gratings, and the bars of the doors seemed calculated to resist the force of men, and of time. These things had a singular effect on such of us, as had, from our childhood, associated the idea of liberty with the name of Old England; but a man must travel beyond the smoke of his own chimney to acquire correct ideas of the characters of men, and of nations.—We however saw the worst of it at first; for every day our residence appeared less disagreeable.
We arrived here the 11th of October; and our lot was better than that of thirty of our companions, who came on a little after us from Plymouth. These 30 men were sent from the West-Indies, and had no descriptive lists, and it was necessary that these men should be measured and described as to stature, complexion, &c.—Capt. Shortland therefore ordered them to be shut up in the prison No. 6. This was a more cold, dreary and comfortless place than No. 7. Their bed was nothing but the cold damp stones; and being in total darkness they dare not walk about. These 30 men had been imprisoned at Barbadoes; and they had supposed that when they arrived at this famous birth place of liberty, they should not be excluded from all her blessings. They had suffered much at Barbadoes, and they expected a different treatment in England; but alas! Captain Shortland at once dissipated the illusion and shewed himself what Britons really are. The next morning they were taken up to Captain Shortland's office to be described, and marked, and numbered. One of the thirty, an old and respectable Captain of an American ship, complained of his usage, and told Shortland that he had been several times a prisoner of war, but never experienced such barbarous treatment before. The man only replied that their not having their beds was the fault of the Turnkey; as if that could ever be admitted as an excuse among military men. [ 
For a minute description of Dartmoor Prison see the engraving.]
Dartmoor is a dreary spot of itself; it is rendered more so by the westerly winds blowing from the Atlantic ocean, which have the same quality and effects as the easterly wind, blowing from the same ocean, are known to have in New-England. This high land receives the sea mist and fogs; and they settle on our skins with a deadly dampness. Here reigns, more than two thirds of the year, "the Scotch mist," which is famous to a proverb. This moor affords nothing for subsistence or pleasure. Rabbits cannot live on it. Birds fly from it; and it is inhabited, according to the belief of the most vulgar, by ghosts and dæmons; to which will now doubtless be added, the troubled ghosts of the murdered American prisoners; and hereafter will be distinctly seen the tormented spirit of the bloody Capt. Shortland, clanking his chains, weeping, wailing and gnashing his teeth! It is a fact that the market people have not sufficient courage to pass this moor in the night. They are always sure to leave Princetown by day light, not having the resolution of passing this dreary, barren, and heaven-abandoned spot in the dark. Before the bloody massacre of our countrymen, this unhallowed spot was believed, by common superstition, to belong to the Devil.